Head Wounds Suck
by Biensche
Summary: Dean takes care of Sam who has a head injury. A poor excuse to hurt Sam, Dean taking care of him, and some brotherly schmoop.


Disclaimer: I do not own "Supernatural".

Summary: Dean takes care of Sam who has a head injury. A poor excuse to hurt Sam, Dean taking care of him, and some brotherly schmoop.

I hope you enjoy!

**Head Wounds Suck**

He still did not know how it happened. Or what had happened, for that matter.

All he knew his brother was hurt. Injured.

He had failed his job to protect him. Story of his life. But there was no time for wallowing in self-pity. And he was not the man for self-pity anyways.

He needed to take care of his brother!

_That_ was all that mattered.

At least for the moment.

His little brother slouched in the passenger seat of the Impala where Dean had managed to haul him. His brother was way too out of it to have been able to make it from the cemetery under his own steam. He had a large gash just below the hairline over his left eye which bled profusely and he had barely been able to get his legs under him let alone get them working properly.

"Hang in there, Sammy!"

Sam's response was a low moan as his eyes slipped closed.

Dean hurried to the back of the car where he rummaged through the trunk.

Dean knew about head wounds. More than he would have liked.

Head wounds bled like a bitch.

Head wounds needed careful treatment.

Head wounds could cause a series of other problems. Serious problems. "No, don't you go there, not just yet", Dean chided himself, "It's just a bleeding head wound for now!"

Now that Sam sat slumped in the car Dean got a more precise look at his younger brother. Even though the dim light from the interior illumination almost did nothing to throw light on Sam. But Dean had his own flashlight at the ready as well as the medical kit from the trunk.

Carefully, he shone the light over his brother's head, all the while trying his best not to blind his sibling, just in case he reopened his eyes at any time. Almost the complete left side of Sam's face was smeared with blood all the way down to his neck where the blood disappeared either beneath or inside Sam's jacket collar or shirt. Dean hissed through his teeth at the sight of his little brother.

Sam's eyes remained closed. Still, he groaned when the beam of light wandered over his lids. Even though closed, the brightness hurt his eyes. Weakly, he raised his hand to swat the intruding light away. But he only managed to lift his hand a few inches from the seat before it fell back to the cushion where it lay limp beside him.

Dean watched his brother closely. His assumption and fear slowly became reality. But he needed one last proof for it.

"Sammy, c'mon man, open your eyes", Dean spoke softly in a tone only his injured brother would ever get to hear while he tenderly began to clean the blood of Sam's face.

Groaning, Sam tried to lift his lids which felt like glued together and he gave up on the effort. He felt it just was not worth the exertion.

Dean urged him again. Though he did not like to talk to his hurting brother like this, this time his voice took a bit more of a commanding tone. "Sam, open your eyes!"

Again, the injured man made an attempt on getting his eyes to obey his command to open but still they refused. After a moment, Sam felt a hand brushing through his hair and stilling at the back of his head while something soft dabbed at his forehead above his left brow. The brushing hand felt nice, the swabbing was rather annoying. So he focused his attention on the hand on his hair.

The touch on his forehead burnt all of a sudden and Sam hissed at the burning sensation.

"That's it, Sammy." Dean looked relieved into his brother's eyes while he cleaned the bleeding wound with some pieces of cotton wool, the last few were dipped with alcohol.

Sam had not even realized that he had accomplished the task of opening his eyes. Blearily, he looked up at his brother. Dean was blurry as was everything else. His eyes just could not focus on anything. And he felt weak. And that not only in his stomach which wanted to make him see his latest food again. He swallowed hard against the rising bile. And his head felt like it was split in half. The more he tried to figure out what had happened and what was going on, the more agony made an appearance in his head. He could not get a grip of what was going on but he felt like he needed to know. So, he tried to question Dean about it. But all he got out was, "Huh."

"You hit your head pretty bad back there, Sam." The older brother spoke softly while taking a look at Sam's eyes. He did not like what he saw there. His pupils were uneven. Dean closed his own eyes for a moment while he breathed deeply. His exhale came out as a sigh. Now, he had his proof.

_Friggin' awesome! Damnit!_

"Huh."

"If any of your blood gets on my baby's seats you'll be paying for her cleaning!" Dean knew his threat barely registered with Sam – if at all. But this was his way of getting himself some sort of relief and his emotions and nerves back under some sort of control.

_Yeah, right. And who are you trying to kid here?_

"Sam, you know how much I hate to sew", Dean complained in a weak attempt at humor, after he had taken in the complete extent of the gash. It was almost six inches long and way too deep for Dean's liking. It was not that Dean was not good at sewing – he was – but he simply did not like to have to patch up his brother. That usually meant he had screwed up his main job: Protect Sammy!

"Huh."

"I can't do that here. Too dark. And I'm not some Indian God with eight arms to sew, hold the light and keep you still."

"Ka…li…" Sam breathed heavily, "only… four…"

Dean felt a lump form at the back of his throat which grew bigger and bigger by the minute as Sam's words sunk in. A barely audible "Oh shit" escaped Dean's mouth as fear crept up his spine. Oh goodness, was his brother in some kind of delirium? Was he talking about the four years he spent in Stanford, California? Did he think he was there? What the hell? No, no, no, this was bad, really bad.

"We're not in Cali." Dean pressed the words past his lips.

"No... not Cali. Kali. India." Sam's words were slow and slurred.

For a moment, Dean frowned trying to make sense of his brother's words until it registered that even though Sam was barely with him his brains still worked on a whole different level than most others and even produced the name of that goddamn Indian goddess. Then realization hit him that his brother was not delirious. Relief flooded through his system which almost made him feel lightheaded.

"Kali it is, for all I care." Dean moaned but he was more than happy both to know his brother was still somehow with it and to hear something else than 'huh' from his brother. Although it was obvious that Sam had trouble talking and breathing and keeping himself focused. "Is there anything in that head of yours you don't know? How the hell do you even know that god's name? You're really all kinds of weird."

"God…dess." Sam corrected.

"Good god", Dean groaned and hurried to add "dess". He knew his rambling and humor didn't really register with his little brother, but he couldn't care less.

Sam stared bleary-eyed, his eyes rolling uncontrolled, his lids trembling in conscious effort of keeping them open.

Dean grabbed some gauze and pushed it as hard as he dared against the still bleeding wound. While keeping the pressure on the gauze with one hand he wrapped another one around Sam's head to keep it in place. He knew the bandage would not stop the bleeding but maybe it would keep some of Sam's blood inside of him anyway. At least until the brothers were back at their motel room where Dean could properly sew the wound.

"Sam, your eyes! You can't see with 'em closed!"

But Sam could not see with them open, either. But he could not tell his brother that because his mouth felt too dry and too wet and like it had been stuffed with cotton all at the same time.

"Open your eyes for me, Sammy."

For Dean, he would open them. And he did. At least they were halfway open. But just as Sam had expected they only produced fuzzy images and he barely could hold his gaze on anything. His eyes roamed around without getting a focus. His lids felt the gravitation pull heavily as he struggled to listen to Dean's order and even more importantly obey it.

"Good, keep 'em like that."

The voice came from Sam's left and he rolled his head over the back of the seat. When had Dean gotten behind the wheel? Sam could not remember. Dean had just been in front of him. His head hurt incredibly while he tried to figure it out.

"Don't!" Dean's hand grasped Sam's midair wrist and pushed it back down gently.

Sam had just wanted to touch his head. Something felt wrong with his head. A touch would make it better. There was something around his head and that was just wrong. That needed to go away.

But if Dean said 'no', then it probably was okay like this.

Sam heard the car engine rumble to life and felt the car's soft vibrations as if it was trying to caress his battered body as Dean turned the key in the ignition. It was a soothing sound and feeling that overcame him. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and give in to the warm and cozy comfort of his brother's presence, the car's care and the blackness that already had its blanket spread out for him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Sam collapse even further in the seat. "Uh-uh, Sammy, no beauty sleep yet. I won't carry your heavy ass into the room."

Dean's voice penetrated through Sam's foggy brain and he pried his eyes open again.

All through the ride back to the motel Dean kept on blabbering, asking his younger brother questions to keep him awake while all Sam felt like was succumbing into the warmth of the darkness creeping around the edges of his being.

Why wouldn't Dean just shut up?

Stopping the car in front of their motel room, Dean hurried around the hood and opened the door on the passenger side. Carefully, he untangled Sam's legs from the foot well and placed his feet on the tarmac.

"Welcome home." Dean's voice was cheerful although inside he felt anything but. His brother visibly tried to help but Dean knew that his efforts would be without success even before Sam's upper body fell against him.

"Hey, I'm not your pillow!" Dean huffed in played annoyance. He was beyond worried.

Sam tried to suppress a groan as he aimed to pull away from Dean.

To prevent him from falling over Dean held onto Sam's upper arms feeling the younger man shake with the effort of just holding himself upright.

"Ready for take-off, Sasquatch?" Dean asked too light-heartedly for it to be honest and pulled his brother to his feet. Sam's legs felt like Jell-O and he had a hard time to keep them straight.

"Whoa, easy." Dean felt his brother's legs buckle as he sacked in Dean's grip. He pulled his brother closer to him to prevent him from face-planting. "If you wanted to inspect the tarmac you could have told me."

Dean pulled Sam's right arm over his shoulder while he wrapped his own left arm around Sam's waist. He kicked the car door closed with his foot and guided his brother into their room. Silently, he apologized to his car for his ruthless behavior but he was sure she would understand. Finally inside the room, he dragged Sam to his bed and planted him on it.

The room spun wildly around Sam. He felt like standing on a boat in the middle of a storm with nothing to hold onto. He leaned slightly forward. Before he knew it, he had a trashcan between his knees. And that came just in time as his revolting stomach eventually won over his will.

Dean had seen what little color was left in Sam's face drain from it and had reached for the waste container immediately.

He rubbed soothingly over Sam's back until he finished vomiting and heaving. "Gross, dude. What the hell did you eat? All… What kinda color is that anyway?" Dean wrinkled his nose trying to lighten the mood in the room. But probably his efforts fell on deaf ears. Sam was too out of it to actually understand what was going on around him and Dean himself was too concerned about his little brother's state than to feel light-hearted.

After he had helped Sam lie down Dean rushed outside to his car to get the first aid kit and the sewing material. Sam's wound still bled. He had seen the crimson fluid leaking through his bandage and partly down Sam's cheek again when he had put him on the bed.

Rushing back to his brother's side he laid out the supplies. Before he started, he made Sam take some pain killers.

Sam stared down at the pills in his hand. He frowned. They seemed to be moving in his palm. Or maybe it was the room moving. He felt as if he was floating around. Maybe he was moving too?

"Put 'em in your mouth or they won't do their magic."

Magic moving pills. That made sense. If those pills were magic they surely were able to move. Sam grinned and shoved them into his mouth. Taking some sips from the glass Dean held to his lips he swallowed them down.

Dean wondered what Sam was grinning about but decided to let it slip as he took off the bandage around Sam's head. His brother was just too out of it.

"Magic… pills… move…" Sam slurred sleepily.

"Oh gosh, Sammy." Dean sighed.

"Yeah, De'n… they… move…"

"Sure, they do. Down your esophagus."

Sam giggled. "Eso… Y' use… diff… dif'cult… words."

"Seriously, you went to college right? What happened when you were at Stanford? Did you even study?"

"Stan… don' know… any Stan…"

"Right." Dean exhaled.

Upon hearing the defeat in Dean's voice Sam got scared and upset and tried to sit up. "No… should I?"

"No, Sammy, you shouldn't." Dean sighed while pushing a weakly struggling Sam back down and cleaning the wound once more from blood as best as he could.

Sam lay back down considering Dean's words for a moment. Then he asked confused, "What shouldn' I?"

"Move. You should not move." Dean had trouble to keep his impatience and temper under control.

"Oh-kay." Sam looked at Dean with big eyes which were so heavy with fatigue and pain. Again he tried to push himself up.

"Sam! Don't. Move." Dean said firmly. "Unless you wanna be sporting a scar on your face!"

"Don' wanna… be a… scar face." Sam snickered.

"Scarface. Good movie." Dean grinned.

"I'm Tony Montana!" Sam gasped.

"You fuck with me you fuckin' with the best." Dean mimicked though he didn't scream as loudly for Sam's sake.

"You little cockroaches", Sam was panting by the time he finished the next part of the quote.

"Say hello to my little friend." Dean finished quoting the movie and then added, "Thanks for taking the part with the cockroaches. Don't like 'em." Inwardly, he felt a wave of relief flood through him that his brother remembered that much of that film in his current state. He was something close to lucid. That was some kind of improvement.

"Think they're cute." Sam was out of breath when he had finished his sentence.

"Ugh, man they're disgusting!" Dean made a show of shuddering.

Dean rummaged through their first aid kit when Sam asked, "How bad?"

"Not that bad." Dean lied like he always would if it was for his brother's benefit.

When Dean had needle and thread at the ready he watched Sam's eyes droop until they closed, with a feeling which bordered on gladness that Sam had passed out now. Sure enough he had tried to keep his sibling awake during his assessment in the car, during the ride back to motel, while getting him inside and on the bed, and while making him take the pills. But Dean's patience with Sam and his talk and appearance had been put to the test. Hard and delicate and severe and pettish. And in more uncomfortable ways than Dean liked to think about.

As he had almost failed.

But now Sam lay unconsciously before him on the bed and Dean could patch him up as he always would.

After taking care of the injury, Dean settled in for an uneasy night for both himself and Sam. He knew Sam's condition and that he had to wake his sibling every few hours to check on him and his lucidity. And so he did.

Sam protested against being awakened but replied to Dean's request throughout the night. "Lemme slee'."

"In a minute. How ya feelin'?"

"D'zzy, sick."

"Puke-sick or only-sick?"

"Only-sick."

"Phew", Dean sighed. "Tell me your name?"

Well-behaved, Sam answered Dean's question, "S'm."

"My name?"

"De'n."

"Where are we?"

Sam opened his mouth, but shut it again when he didn't know the answer. Instead, he just made a low noise.

"Where are we?" Dean urged again. He actually had wanted to hear the town's name.

"Dunno." After a little pause, Sam added, "Can' rem'ber… any town's names. Too many of 'em."

Dean grinned at the reply. That was understandable. They travelled the roads of America so much that they easily could lose track of where they were currently. Even though his little brother normally always knew where they were. But he decided to give his brother some credit.

"S'mewher' in n'wher'." Sam's reply came out of the blue and snapped Dean back to the here and now. The older brother grinned at the answer.

In the dimly lit room, Dean looked Sam over. Sam's pupils still appeared a different size. The bandaged wound, he left alone. He had just dressed that a few hours ago. So, there was no need to distress Sam with that now.

Dean decided to wait another few hours before waking his brother again. Maybe by then, his condition had improved further. Maybe, Sam just slurred because he was tired – and not because of brain damage. And maybe, his eyes were just unequal sizes because the light in the room sucked.

Another three hours later, Dean gently woke his sibling. Sam was more coherent than the hours before. Again Dean asked his questions for Sam's wellbeing, their names, where they were.

This time Sam's reply to that was, "M'tel."

Again not what Dean had hoped for but his brother's answer was even better for Dean's liking. He still did not like, though, how his brother's speech was slurring.

"You're in pain?"

"Nuh." Sam groaned and failed at his attempt of rolling over facing away from the light. Exhausted with the tiny and unsuccessful movement he flopped back. He felt even too weak to bring an arm up across his face to shield his eyes from the light. In the back of his mind he knew Dean had only turned on the small lamp on the nightstand which cast only a subdued light around. To Sam it felt as if he stood in a million watt spotlight.

As Dean realized Sam's misery he turned off the light. Then he shook some pills out of the small plastic bottle from the nightstand.

"Open up," Dean ordered.

"Wha'?"

"Your mouth, dummy."

"S'mmy", Sam corrected automatically and kept his mouth open.

Dean pushed the pills inside and let his brother drink some water to down them.

"Tol' you… I'm not in pain", Sam gasped betraying his words.

"I know you're tough, Sammy" Dean answered while stroking his brother's hair from his face.

Sam had already drifted off.

The next morning, Sam woke with a numb pounding headache. Sluggishly, he opened his eyes. The room was dark, only some rays of the sun found their way inside the room. Sam was more than thankful for that. He was sure more light would only make his head pound even worse and his stomach churn. And somehow he was sure that he would bring up nothing but bitter and acid bile. In the back of his mind he thought he remembered that he had already thrown up his last meal.

He closed his eyes again because the images he got were unfocused and made his head swim.

Soft breathing sounds got to his senses. He would make out those sounds anywhere. Dean's sleep sounds were that familiar to Sam.

After a few minutes of getting his dizziness, his hurting head and miserable feeling body under some kind of control, he dared to open his eyes again. He blinked several times to get a clear image. It got clearer but it was still far from absolutely sharp.

Carefully and testing how far he could push himself up without hurling or face-planting he pressed his elbows into the mattress to get his upper body up. He definitely needed another position. His body felt stiff. He probably had not moved around too much during the night.

The rustling of the sheets woke Dean. He was instantly alert and at Sam's side.

"Hey", his voice was low and huskier than it normally was. Sam did not know if it was because he had been asleep or because of his worry or because of both.

"Hi."

"How do you feel?"

"Like I need the bathroom."

Dean frowned, but then a grin spread over his face when realization dawned on him that Sam didn't need the toilet for throwing up. "Others would just say 'I need to take a leak'." Even though Dean teased his little brother he was incredibly relieved. The choice of words sounded much more like Sam than anything the man had said ever since he chose to inspect the tombstones on the cemetery up close.

Slowly, Sam pushed into a sitting position. Then he placed his feet to the carpeted floor. For a moment he felt vertigo wash over him as he swayed. But he felt Dean's hands on his shoulders to steady him. Dean helped him up without a comment. Sam got his bearings and shuffled over to the bathroom. He felt his brother's presence right behind him. And that reassured him in a way nothing else could. He knew his brother would always have his back. Just like he would.

"I can go in there alone, right? Or do you wanna hold me?"

"If you need me to-" Dean stopped his sentence as Sam's words hit home.

Sam saw the moment when his words finally sank in displayed vividly on Dean's face. He turned white, then red. Even his ears sparkled in red. A broad grin spread over Sam's face.

"Oh gross! Sam! What the fuck? No way!" Dean turned away. Now, Dean was sure his brother was feeling 'fine' again.

Several hours later, the brothers had their stuff packed in their bags and were ready to leave. Dean had had a close eye on his brother. And he was certain, Sam still was not back at a hundred per cent. Every now and then, he would rub at his eyes or blink. But his speech was normal, his brain appeared normal – well, Sam-normal. So, Dean decided he could bring his plan to action.

"I'll take the bags to the car. You return the key."

Sam looked at Dean and nodded. "Sure."

Dean grabbed the bags and carried them outside where he stuffed them in the trunk of the car while Sam locked the door and walked to the office.

Patiently, Dean sat waiting behind the steering wheel of his car as Sam made his way over to the passenger side. Trying to hide his grin behind a well-trained mask, Dean watched his little brother open the door and putting one leg inside the car.

Then Sam's eyes fell on the seat where he almost had placed his butt upon.

Shrieking he jumped back and stumbled to a fall on the parking lot, his sight never leaving the seat and its occupant.

"What a sight!" Dean exclaimed as he got out of the car and stepped around it. "I should have had a camera at the ready."

Sam growled and got up brushing off his pants.

"Oh, wait! I did." Dean triumphantly held up his cell phone with the display turned towards Sam.

"Funny." The young man grumbled.

Dean picked up the small insect from the seat and placed it in his palm. "And I thought you said they were cute." The older brother sneered as he held out his palm towards Sam who jumped back slightly.

"I just wasn't prepared for that", Sam explained.

"Oh, sure, that's it." Dean nodded exaggerated. "Well, that shriek lets me think differently."

"I'm injured, man."

"Poor Sammy." Dean mocked and placed the cockroach on the ground. Then he walked back to the driver's side. Looking over the roof, he called out, "You comin' or what?"

Sam got in the car beside his brother. Even though this prank had really gotten him, he felt good and safe with his brother beside him. He rested his head against the window and after a few moments his breathing evened out in sleep.

"Yeah, poor dummy", Dean grinned lovingly as he peered over at his brother.

Dean wished he had the next word from Sam's mouth recorded for future reference as Sam corrected, "Sammy."

The End

Thank you for reading! Hopefully you had a nice time while reading it. If you can spare a minute I'd love to hear from you and what you think. Cheers!


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